<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>stuck on you by simplyclockwork</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26995456">stuck on you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork'>simplyclockwork</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tumblr Inspired/Prompted Fics - Part Two [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff, Gen, Humour, If so then this is it, Is kiss blocking a thing?, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Slash, Soft boys share a moment, Tumblr Prompt, a bit cracky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:01:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,807</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26995456</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Sherlock isn't as smooth as he'd like everyone to think. Lucky for him, John always has his back.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes &amp; John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tumblr Inspired/Prompted Fics - Part Two [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>182</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>stuck on you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompted by anon on Tumblr:</p><p>  <i>It would be great to have a fic where Sherlock gets stuck in something (you choose what and how or why, a cupboard, a trunk, a scold’s bridle he was experimenting with!). Anything. It’s embarrassing and uncomfortable. Lestrade is amused, Donovan is mean but John is protective and helps Sherlock keep calm and get out </i></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">John is used to being left behind. Sherlock never waits for him, no matter how hard John tries to keep up. But it’s fine. As long as he follows, that’s all Sherlock expects.</p><p class="p1">So he really doesn’t mind when Sherlock insists that the fire escape will have evidence integral to the case. And he isn't bothered when Sherlock rushes out to study the steps for tracks of some mud found outside their suspect’s flat. And he <em>really</em> shouldn’t laugh when Sherlock tries to shimmy back into the room through the open window and is promptly caught in place by the jam sliding shut.</p><p class="p1">And sticking.</p><p class="p1">It locks in place and refuses to budge, no matter how wildly Sherlock squirms or how crossly he curses at the wood digging into his lower back.</p><p class="p1">“John!” he snaps, glaring daggers across the room where Anderson is doubled over with silent laughter, and Sally is smirking. “Get me out of here!”</p><p class="p1">“I’m trying.” John heaves at the sill, but the bloody thing won’t move an inch, and Sherlock’s vigorous wriggling keeps knocking his hands away. “Dammit, Sherlock, stop moving!”</p><p class="p1">An angry growl of <em>John </em>is the only response, and Sherlock keeps up his bid for freedom. He’s like a well-dressed snake caught in a trap, worming about without gaining any forward progress. When he finally falls still, he sags into a slump with his arms hanging straight down to the floor. “Get me out,” Sherlock whines pathetically, and John feels his chest tighten in silent sympathy.</p><p class="p1">“Alright,” John replies, sounding more than a little helpless and trying to ignore Sherlock’s despairing groan. “Just… gimme a moment, yeah?” He taps at the windowsill, checking the sides for a locking mechanism, for something caught, and finds nothing. The building is old, the frame wooden, and John bets that the recent wet, soggy weather, followed by an unseasonal heatwave, made the wood expand. It’s a wonder the window didn’t stick when they slid it open, and it's a genuine turn of bad luck that it chose to do so just as Sherlock ducked back into the room.</p><p class="p1">Sally’s sneering voice pulls John out of his thoughts. “Look at that. Finally, a case that even the freak can’t solve.” Anderson snickers and John shoots a sour look over his shoulder, the noise only emboldening Sally, who adds, “The Great Sherlock Holmes, defeated by a window.”</p><p class="p1">Scowling, Sherlock’s mouth pops open, but John beats him to the punch, snarling, “Sod <em>off,</em> Donovan.” She shoots him a glare, but John narrows his eyes until she subsides. Anderson’s mouth closes with a click of teeth, and he slinks off into the hall, no doubt to share the story with everyone else on the team.</p><p class="p1">Lestrade enters the room several seconds later, confirming John’s suspicion.</p><p class="p1">“Well, there’s something you don’t see every day,” he quips, obviously amused. Sherlock shoots him a look that could kill a lesser man.</p><p class="p1">“I will <em>murder you,” </em>he hisses through his teeth, wiggling his stuck hips in another futile bid for freedom.</p><p class="p1">Ignoring his venom, Lestrade turns to John. “Did you try pulling on his arms?”</p><p class="p1">John grimaces. “Wouldn’t advise it. With how stuck he is, we might dislocate a shoulder or pull something out of alignment.”</p><p class="p1">The DI nods thoughtfully, frowning at the window. Sherlock eyes them both with a petulant expression, his face flushed from the effort required to keep his head upright. “Could try pushing from behind?”</p><p class="p1">“How?” John asks, tilting his head and studying the windowsill. “Can’t get out there with him stuck like that.”</p><p class="p1">Lestrade shrugs. “Go up from the street?”</p><p class="p1">“Like John could reach the fire escape from the street,” Sherlock grumbles, earning himself a sharp look from John. “What? You can’t!”</p><p class="p1">“Oi! Leave my height out of this.”</p><p class="p1">Eyes narrowed, Sherlock snaps, “Stop talking about me like I’m not <em>right here,</em> then!”</p><p class="p1">John just sighs and rolls his eyes as he turns back to Lestrade. “Seems like the best idea, cos I’m at a loss.”</p><p class="p1">“Yeah, yeah, good, gimme a mo’,” Lestrade replies distractedly. He is already pulling his phone out of a pocket and aiming it at Sherlock, who bares his teeth in a fierce snarl before John bats the device away.</p><p class="p1">“Quit it.” He fixes Lestrade with a stern glare until the phone disappears back into his coat. “That sorts it, then. <em>You </em>get to go outside and up the fire escape, and I’ll wait here with Sherlock.” Lestrade looks rebellious but does as told, leaving the room. Sherlock sags with brief relief, the top of his head brushing the carpet as he goes loose. Feeling a surge of affection for him, John huffs a soft laugh. “How are you doing?”</p><p class="p1">Sherlock plants a hand against the wall and turns his head, cheek pressed to his forearm as he looks up at John. “I’ll be honest, John,” he says in a flat tone, eyes half-closed and expression annoyed, “I’ve had better days.”</p><p class="p1">“You’ve definitely had worse,” John points out, and the corner of Sherlock’s mouth twitches upward. Just a little, but it’s enough to make John smile back.</p><p class="p1">“True.” His smile fading, Sherlock wiggles again and grimaces. Feeling a flicker of concern, John squats before him.</p><p class="p1">“Are you in pain?”</p><p class="p1">Sherlock’s eyes skate away, and a touch of colour rises in his cheeks. “My neck." The admission is quietly muttered like some reluctant secret. “Looking up is making my neck cramp, but if I look down, all the blood rushes to my head.” He sighs, hanging morosely from the sill. “Lestrade needs to hurry up.”</p><p class="p1">“He will,” John soothes before an idea occurs. “But, until then…” he shifts and presses his back to the wall beneath the window, carefully maneuvering until Sherlock’s head is level with his right side. “Put your arms here.” Sherlock just stares at him with a blank expression, and John taps a finger to his shoulder. “Here.”</p><p class="p1">Slowly, watching John with a wary squint, Sherlock lifts his arms and drapes them over John’s broad shoulders. He hesitates until John gives him an encouraging nod, and Sherlock rests his chin on top of his arm, cheek against the side of John’s neck. The position puts Sherlock almost parallel to the floor, taking the pressure off his upper body. Sherlock’s soft, relieved exhale brushes John’s skin, and John grins. “Better?”</p><p class="p1">Sherlock nods, his curls tickling the side of John’s face. They are surprisingly soft, just as John always thought they might be. He lets himself turn his head, just enough to inhale the mixture of shampoo, hair product, and faint cologne clinging to Sherlock’s hair. His eyes flicker briefly closed, making John grateful that Donovan disappeared shortly after Lestrade left to climb the fire escape. Sherlock huffs a little sigh and tilts closer, his head brushing John’s nose in an unmistakable nuzzle.</p><p class="p1">“John?” Sherlock says quietly, his breathing hot on John’s skin.</p><p class="p1">John glances at him from the corner of his eyes, but can’t get a direct look without turning his head, which would disrupt Sherlock's nestling. He finds he really doesn’t want to interrupt the closeness. “Yeah?”</p><p class="p1">A beat of silence stretches before Sherlock whispers, “Thank you.”</p><p class="p1">Lips curling up in a smile, John nods. “Of course.”</p><p class="p1">They both go quiet, and John counts Sherlock’s breaths every time his chest rises and falls against John’s upper back. The proximity is surprisingly comfortable, though the weight of Sherlock’s arm weighs on his left shoulder in the awkward position. When John rolls it back to alleviate the tension, Sherlock adjusts his arm and loops it across John’s upper body, shifting the pressure. John hums in appreciation before leaning into the partial embrace. Sherlock just sighs again and presses his face into John’s neck.</p><p class="p1">Struck by the borderline-intimacy of the moment, John tilts his head and finds Sherlock staring at him. Their eyes lock, and a small, bemused frown creases Sherlock’s brow. His breath brushes warm over John's lips with each soft exhale. This close, John can make out every shifting hue in Sherlock’s pale eyes, blue and green and grey all whirling into a prism as Sherlock’s gaze darts over John’s face.</p><p class="p1">Then drops to his mouth.</p><p class="p1">John sucks in a startled breath and Sherlock’s catches. Frozen, neither of them moves for a spell until John’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Sherlock makes a quiet noise and starts to tip his chin up.</p><p class="p1">The sound of footsteps makes them both go stiff again, and John’s head whips around so fast that his neck creaks. Sherlock jerks in surprise. His arm tightens around John's shoulders as John blinks at Lestrade, who pauses in the doorway, taking in the scene with a raised eyebrow.</p><p class="p1">“What’s this, then?” he asks, seeming amused. Walking into the room, Lestrade stands over them with a wicked smile and his hands on his hips.</p><p class="p1">“The angle was making him dizzy,” John defends, while Sherlock silently curls his upper lip at Lestrade. Before either of them can react, Lestrade’s phone is in his hand, emitting a low <em>click </em>when he takes a picture. John considers lunging up to wrestle the phone away, but Sherlock’s weight keeps him pinned to the floor.</p><p class="p1">“Bad news, lads.” Lestrade tucks the phone away again, still grinning like the cat that got the cream. “Fire escape is stuck, and I can’t get up. So, I’ve called the fire station. They’ll have to cut you out, Sherlock.”</p><p class="p1">John feels Sherlock’s scowl against his cheek. “If they ruin this suit, I <em>will </em>file a complaint.”</p><p class="p1">“You’ll do no such thing,” Lestrade says, pointing a commanding finger in Sherlock’s face. The detective subsides with a put-upon growl before sirens rise in the background, and Lestrade perks up. “I’ll just go let them know where we are.” Shooting them one last smug look and a knowing grin, he leaves John and Sherlock alone once more.</p><p class="p1">“If I murder him, will you help me hide the body?” Sherlock mutters, his bottom lip pushing out into a pout. John snorts and nudges Sherlock’s cheek playfully with his nose.</p><p class="p1">“Not a chance.”</p><p class="p1">“Spoilsport.” Sherlock’s pout intensifies. “You’re the worst.”</p><p class="p1">“Ah, you don’t mean that,” John replies, grinning. To his surprise, Sherlock turns his head and nuzzles the underside of John’s jaw. The action is unexpected, and John blinks, his mind going blank.</p><p class="p1">“No, I don’t,” Sherlock murmurs, his voice low and decidedly close to what John might call ‘husky.’ The sound of it threatens to make John shiver, and he suppresses the urge by tensing his muscles. He feels Sherlock smile and bites his lip.</p><p class="p1">A little flustered, John clears his throat and exhales a breathless chuckle. “That’s what I thought.” Sherlock’s only reply is a soft hum, the vibration rumbling through his jaw, into John’s skull. Swallowing, John breathes out a heavy sigh and hopes the firefighters take their time.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>